


Folly of the Egotistical

by Traumedic



Category: Animaniacs
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Big brother Wakko, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, King Salazar is a bastard, Protege!Yakko, Wakko's Wish, Wakko's Wish au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29288397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traumedic/pseuds/Traumedic
Summary: Wakko's Wish AU!King Salazar successfully slays King William and Queen Angelina the Second. To quell any chance of a future coup he takes on an awfully familiar looking individual as his child/protégé.
Relationships: Dot Warner & Wakko Warner & Yakko Warner
Comments: 22
Kudos: 55





	1. Long Live the King

Salazar didn't feel like he was an unreasonable man. No, not at all. He'd _earned_ everything he had, aftet all; whether it was earned through bribery or bloodshed or _betrayal_ , well, what did it truly matter as long as what he wanted became his. 

It had been six years since Salazar's **greatest** victory: taking over Warnerstock. 

Slaughtering the embarrassingly softhearted monarchs and taking the throne for himself without hesitation or remorse, hell, he'd even added insult to injury by doing it in front of their eldest child. That, Salazar couldn't help but grin as he recalled the exact expression the crown prince had made as blood had spilled across the floor, his parents no longer moving, their hearts no longer beating. He'd crumbled to his knees, like his limbs could literally no longer support him, his hands had clenched into fists and the pained cry, the _wail_ that had escaped the child had been music to Salazar's ears. 

Salazar had thought first to execute him next, but had locked him away instead. He was certain there would be some sort of use for him later, if anything he would assist in finding the two younger brats he called his siblings. 

Salazar frowned as he recalled that last part hadn't exactly panned out. The guards had searched far and wide for Wakko and Dot, but to no avail. It was a shame, Salazar would have taken glee in _allowing them to be with their parents_ , but was content in the knowledge there was no way the two could possibly still be alive. 

From time to time, Salazar liked to take a half hour or so to just sit in silence, recalling every detail of the coup. 

It hadn't been difficult for Salazar's insurgents to find cracks in the metaphorical armor that was Warnerstock's royal guards. No matter how 'good' or 'kind' William and Angelina the Second were—Salazar sneered at that—there would always be individuals who just didn't feel _toons_ deserved to rule over non-toons. 

Was it right or fair? Salazar didn't care. At the end of the day, he would slay man **and** toon alike if it meant gaining power and riches. 

Royal guards belonging to Warnerstock had turned a blind eye as Salazar's own militanr forces had snuck in through the worker's corridors; their disloyalty to William and Angelina the Second would be rewarded in the fact they would get to keep their lives and stay in their current occupations with the **literal** changing of the guard. 

Both of those promises had been utter _lies_. If they were willing to betray their current monarchs, then what would stop them from attempting to betray Salazar in the foreseeable future? Nothing. Nothing at all. And as soon as Salazar had cemented his position as the new king of Warnerstock—this country really needed a new name, one that wasn't so… _pathetic_ —he made an example of the traitorous guards. In front of the new guard, in front of the staff, in front of _anyone_ who had been unlucky enough to be in the castle during the coup and yet lucky enough to survive, they had been systematically beheaded, their bodies dragged out to the streets. Blood had practically covered the floors in a crimson wave. It had taken **weeks** to get the castle cleaned up. 

Only idiotic fools would be willing to stand against Salazar after he'd slaughtered numerous guards, and—more notoriously—the **king** and **queen** of Warnerstock. 

Salazar ran a hand along the arm of the throne he sat atop, the very same throne that king William had once used. It was so boring and _underwhelming_ ; Salazar would have replaced it, but it felt like it served a good reminder of what had occurred just six years prior, and perhaps that little reminder would keep the riffraff in line. 

He wasn't here to handle the petty, insignificant problems of _peasants_ , they were beneath him. If they didn't like it, they simply should not have been born _poor_. 

Everything else, of course, had been remodeled to befit his taste: jewels, gold, and items that _dripped_ opulence covered every square inch of the floors and walls. If he had the money and the loot, why not flaunt it? It was his right as **king** to do just that. Who was going to stop him? 

Just as soon as he'd finished that thought, footsteps caught the attention of Salazar; they came to a halt just inside the doorway of the throne room. 

Salazar looked up, already having an idea of who it was. An individual draped in attire _almost_ as opulent as Salazar’s stood at parade rest as they looked to the king. 

“Ah, Yakko, my dear boy,” Salazar motioned for the toon to come closer. “I was wondering what was taking you so long. You’re lucky I am in a good mood.” 

The toon in question regarded Salazar for a moment, studying the king's body language: open, relaxed, one could call it outright _cocky_ , then glanced around the room, eyes lingering for just a moment where the portrait of ~~his family used to be~~ Salazar rested. 

Finally, Yakko spoke, his voice even and with an almost practiced cadence. “I'm sorry for the delay. I did not want to disturb your introspection time, _Father_.”

* * *

Wakko Warner was a lot of things, but a _parent_ or even a parental figure was **not** one of them. Wakko’s kindness and his ability to keep his head down and work through even the most miserable of situations felt like his only saving graces, the only things that bailed him out of the hairy situations he—and his baby sister—had been placed in the past six years. 

Except, kindness and work ethic alone weren't going to solve this problem, no matter how much he wished it would. 

Wakko knew he was hovering, but he didn’t really care as he sat next to the bed his sister lay in. It was one of her worse days…another bad day in a long string of ‘bad days' that only seemed to be getting worse and worse. She hadn't even been able to get out of bed today. 

The sister in question coughed, and both siblings winced at the same time. To be fair, Wakko's was more out of sympathy ~~and the knowledge he couldn't do anything to fix it in that moment~~ than out of pain. Dot, on the other hand, felt like a serrated blade was being dragged up and down her throat and esophagus. She wanted nothing more than to rip out the nerves that let her feel pain at all. Why were they even able to suffer like that? What kind of sick bastard made it where toons could hurt and be sick and—Dot's internal rant was cut short with another round of rough, productive coughing. She clutched ineffectively at her chest, as if it would somehow make it easier for her to breathe. She never realized just how much she'd taken ‘breathing adequately' for granted when she was younger. 

Wakko hovered ever closer to his sister's side, intense concern had creased his brow even as his tongue lolled out of his mouth. 

What was he supposed to do? This wasn't a problem he could fix with his two bare—he glanced down—well, _gloved_ hands. He couldn't just allow his baby sister to rot away, though. He needed to do something, _anything_ to help the two of them claw out of poverty and get Dot the medical assistance she needed. 

But how? 

Acme Falls was _broke_ , and that was putting it politely. **Destitute** would be a more apt description. There was nothing Wakko could do that would bring in income, he knew, he had tried damned near **everything** that had even the slightest chance of allowing him to bring home an income. He couldn't stray far either, Dot needed his help and he didn't want to abandon her. They only had each other in this cruel world after the orphanage had shut down and abandoned them. 

Their current situation tore the two of them apart in different ways. 

As annoyingly _selfish_ as Dot could be—though what else was to be expected from a child—she knew she was a good part of the reason that Wakko was working his hands to the bone day in and day out. He always looked exhausted, always looked two seconds from falling asleep even while standing up. 

Dot had to watch from the bed, too sick to do much more than try and keep their makeshift home tidy and cook whatever food Wakko had managed to get his hands on so it was two less things Wakko had to fret and worry about. 

That didn’t stop him. He just shifted to fretting and worrying even more over his baby sister. Was she pushing herself too hard? Was she going to be too weak to get up tomorrow? 

Would she even be _alive_ tomorrow? 

There was an incessant paranoia that plagued the back of Wakko's mind every time he left their home: _What if Dot died while he was out?_

What if he left and Dot collapsed and he wasn’t there to rush her to Scratchy's and he wasn't able to save her in time? 

Of course, these thoughts went unsaid. He didn't want to burden his sister with his own fears, no matter how often the older brother awoke in the middle of the night with a start, paranoid and driven to check on his sister just to make sure she was still alive and breathing. Dot was the younger sibling, she was the sick one. He was the eldest sibling. 

Well. Wakko was the eldest sibling _now_ , ever since Yakko— 

Wakko didn't dare go further down that dark and depressing mental path. 

Wakko watched as Dot flopped back down against the bed, the coughing fit had left her exhausted and sweaty; her breathing was even more ragged than normal and there was audible wheezing on both inspiration and expiration. Wakko's concern only intensified tenfold and he pulled the blanket up to her chin, to which Dot mumbled something that sounded vaguely like _thank you_. He brushed a gloved hand along the top of her head, looking on as his sister fell asleep within moments. 

It was both a blessing and a curse, but, unlike Wakko, Dot didn't remember that there was a third Warner. Another Warner brother. She had been too young when everything had gone so horribly, terribly _wrong_. Even then, Wakko knew he didn't remember everything, but he **did** remember Yakko. Their oldest brother, the would-be crown prince. Wakko hadn't cared about that last part. 

He cared about how Yakko had always been up to something fun and mischievous and had always let Wakko be his partner in crime. They'd raided kitchens and startled maids and had laughed as they'd raced down hallways while their tutors had shouted at them to _come back and continue their lessons and behave like princes should!_

Yakko had been slaughtered alongside their parents, and it had been up to Wakko to grab his sister and flee the devastation. It had been a terrifying and scarring moment for the five year old prince. 

Though, as poor as their situation was, at least they were still alive. Wakko looked down at his hands and, for a second, he swore he could still see the blood that had covered his hands all those years ago when he’d had to move a literal _dead body_ of a guard he'd once been attached to, to open a door and allow himself and his sister to escape. 

Wakko shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to be haunted by phantom blood or screams any longer. Had he and his family not suffered enough? 

After a minute he opened his eyes and the gloves were blood-free once more. He let out a soft sigh of relief, then stood. 

He needed to get his head on straight. He needed to figure out just what in the hell he was going to do for breakfast for the two of them. And after that? He needed a job. And after that, after that? He needed to get Dot the help she oh-so-desperately needed. 

He just hoped it wasn't too late for that to be a realistic dream.


	2. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yakko and Salazar recall their pasts; Wakko and Dot suffer respectively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the title is from Edgar Allan Poe, I love that line in particular :D

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when Yakko knew there was no one around to call him _weak_ , to see him being _vulnerable_ , he thought about his siblings. 

He reminded himself that he had, in fact, been too weak to keep them safe from harm when it mattered most. 

It was in these moments he allowed himself to mourn—in silence, of course. As much as he tried to block out what had happened on that fateful night all those years ago, there were some things that would not leave him be, would not give him a moment of peace, whether it was day or night. 

He remembered his younger brother's face, fearful as he had clung to Yakko's leg. 

_Wakko looked near tears as he begged Yakko, "Please don't go! I don't want you to go!" He didn't know exactly what was happening, but he knew it was bad, really, **really** bad! Yakko was the only source of calm and stability amidst this metaphorical sea of panic and fear. _

_Yakko looked down at his baby brother and assured him with a soft voice and a gentle pat on the top of his head, the red cap Wakko adored covering his eyes. "I'm just going to find Mom and Dad. It'll be okay, I'll be back in just a second. Keep an eye on Dot."_

_Wakko didn't look convinced, in fact, he clung tighter to Yakko's leg. After a few moments he spoke, voice scant audible. "...promise?"_

_"Promise." As soon as Wakko relinquished his death grip on Yakko's leg, the oldest sibling pulled the middle child into a tight, but swift, hug. "Stay here. Keep an eye on our sister. Stay safe."_

_Wakko gave a reluctant nod, scrubbing at his face with a sweater covered forearm to get rid of the tears streaming down his fur. He was scared--no, **terrified** , but if Yakko promised he would return for them, then Wakko had the utmost, childishly naive, faith that Yakko wouldn't break his word. _

_Yakko knelt down, pulling his baby sister, a toddler at the time, into his arms for another quick hug. Dot grabbed at his ears, "Yakko." She spoke as if she were about to tell him a grave secret, only to follow his name with: "You look sad. Don't like it." She knew even less than Wakko did, but she could pick up on the oddly serious tones permeating from her brothers. Now was not the time for her usual dramatics._

_"It's fine, Sister Sib, I'm not sad." He muttered, prying her small hands from his ears. He wasn't outright sad, more concerned for his parents and his siblings._

_It stung his heart to have to part from them in such a turbulent time, but he didn't want to draw attention to them, not with the fighting and the screaming and the clang of weapon against weapon ricocheting down the halls. He needed to find their parents and find them **quick**. _

_He'd wasted too much time already, though, was any time spent with his siblings really a waste? Not in his book._

_The oldest Warner sibling shot Wakko a look that signified 'stay put' and the middle sibling nodded in response, though he moved to pick up his younger sister, resting her on his hip in a move he'd seen Yakko do a million times before. It would be a lie to say Wakko didn't try to emulate his older brother—for good or ill. Then, Yakko was off._

_That was the last time he'd ever seen them._

Something wet trickled down Yakko's cheek and chin, only serving to incense the crown prince. 

Yakko glared at his reflection in a mirror in his bedroom, all of his fury directed at the tear that dared to trail down his furry cheek. He couldn't be weak. He couldn't allow himself to falter, not after what had happened to his parents, his _siblings_ when he had. 

After that horrific day, Yakko Warner, crown prince of the combined Tictockia and Warnerstock, would never allow himself to fail in such a capacity **ever** again.

* * *

Salazar knew he was a genius. From his youth, when his tutors would sing his praises day in and day out about how intelligent and uncompromising he was, to now, when his current advisors did the same. 

The only time they'd seemed to hesitate in giving Salazar his deserved accolades happened to be when he took a, then eight-year-old, Yakko Warner as his adopted son and protégé. 

_Salazar's most trusted advisors murmured amongst themselves, eyes darting between the kid, obviously in shock and wailing miserably after the murder of his parents **in front of his very eyes** mere moments ago and Salazar himself. _

_Finally, one had the gall to question Salazar's utterly brilliant idea: "Are you sure this is a good idea?" He asked, his compatriots nodded their heads in unison as they stood behind him._

_"What do you think could possibly go wrong?" Salazar sneered down at him, brow quirked, watching as his advisors seemed to second guess their own eagerness to speak up against Salazar's wishes._

_The advisor in question flicked his gaze back to Yakko, still on his knees, the picture of a mere child who had witnessed something horrific, something no one, especially not a child, should have to ever see with their own two eyes. The advisor's voice lowered, "What if he tries to overthrow you?"_

_Salazar snorted, then let out a belly-deep laugh as if the mere **notion** of someone trying to exact revenge against him because he'd murdered their parents in cold blood out of greed alone was the most hilarious joke ever told. He wiped a tear from his eyes, letting out an amused sigh. _

_"You really think a **child** could take me when the bonafide knighted King William couldn't?" _

_"He won't be a child forever..." His advisor pointed out._

_"By then he'll know better than to even **think** about crossing me." Salazar's voice had taken a frigid tone. "Now, throw him in the dungeon until I am ready to deal with him. I still have to find and **eradicate** his siblings." _

_With a flourish of his cape, Salazar strode out of the throne room. Perhaps when he caught the remaining prince and princess he would use them as examples, killing one if Yakko dared step even one toe out of line._

_Another thought along similar lines struck Salazar at that moment: he needed to have the advisor who openly questioned him executed as well. An example to his other advisors._

By all reports, Yakko was the perfect protégé. After an extended...adjustment period, the—now only—Warner child had finally accepted his lot in life. Yakko, once garrulous and lively, had become more withdrawn, more calculating. It was just as Salazar had hoped; he'd loathed and despised the fight Yakko had in him, a 'spirit' that needed to be ground into dust and buried alongside his dead parents. 

It would have been so much easier to achieve if they'd managed to capture his younger siblings, but the two had evaded their patrols, like they had never been there at all. 

No matter. They were surely deceased, and Salazar had spun a tale that had put such an immense amount of grief in Yakko's eyes that someone that had a soul and a subconscious would have felt guilty. 

Salazar possessed neither of those things. 

Instead, Salazar had used his tale as a test of sorts. 

_Salazar stalked towards the dungeons where he'd left Yakko. The poor toon was huddled in a corner, curled in on himself as he shuddered in silent sobs, face buried in his gloved hands._

_How utterly **pathetic**. _

_He should have been thankful Salazar was sparing him. Should have been groveling at his feet, singing Salazar's praises over and over again until his voice became hoarse._

_Salazar kicked the bars, the resounding clang made Yakko flinch like he'd been struck, before he snapped his head in Salazar's direction to glare at him, full of righteous fury. Salazar would have to crush that sort of behavior right off the bat._

_"Keep looking at me like that and I won't tell you about your siblings." Salazar informed him, sounding bored._

_Yakko's face fell, "Where are they?" He demanded with as much anger as an eight-year-old could summon._

_"Ah-ah," Salazar wagged a finger at him, his tone demeaning. "You don't demand anything from me, your king."_

_Yakko's fur bristled, claws unsheathing beneath his gloves at that point. Rage had replaced despair. " **Tell me where they are!** " His pained, desperate shout echoed along the dungeon walls. Yakko was stuck with the transient thought that he wished he'd been more of a sword over the pen individual, wished he'd done more training with his father...not that the training had saved his father in the end. _

_Salazar watched the toon in front of him with the same expression one gave a toddler throwing a temper tantrum over something ridiculous._

_Yakko's chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. The child wanted nothing more than to get out of the cell, find his siblings, and take them far, **far** away from this place to somewhere they would be safe. He would do whatever it took to keep them safe, no matter the cost. _

_He just needed to get to them first._

_Salazar waited until Yakko's desperate gasps subsided, he waited until Yakko's fur wasn't quite as riled—still a great deal ruffled though. Then, finally, he spoke._

_"It was an unfortunate accident," He began, managing to sound two percent apologetic, quite a feat for a man who didn't feel sorry at all over the pain he was about to inflict._

_Yakko tensed, once again he was a ball of fur, hackles raised. "What was?" He questioned, dread filling him from head to toe._

_Salazar took a moment to look around the dungeons, increasing the tension in the air; fear and concern emanated from Yakko in practically palpable waves._

_Salazar spoke once more as if Yakko hadn't said a thing. "My men aren't caregivers, they don't know how to handle children. You know how it is, handle a toddler a little too roughly and..." Salazar let out a sigh that managed to **kind of** sound mournful. "And then your brother tried to bite my men because that and..." Salazar shook his head, letting Yakko fill in the dots himself. _

_Yakko looked just as broken, if not more so, as he had when he'd witnessed his parents deaths._

_"I know this must be hard for you," Salazar had practiced this speech in the mirror before he'd come down to speak to Yakko. "But I do have the man who was responsible for their demises. Consider this an apology."_

_Yakko watched Salazar warily. "Consider **what** an apology?" _

_At this, Salazar grinned, perhaps the Warner child was intelligent after all._

_"My dear boy," He drew slightly closer to the cell, his voice less frigid, he attempted to sound soothing. "You get to end the life of the man who killed your siblings."_

* * *

Dot struggled to sit up. It felt like she'd been spun in circles for a solid few minutes, then brought to a sudden halt. Her head swam and she resisted the urge to cough, it would bring more pain than she was willing to tolerate at that exact moment. 

She needed to get up, had to be productive. At the very least she wanted to try her hand at trading a few things before Wakko got back from hunting. He'd only be miffed if he knew she'd left their home while she felt so poorly. Her brow furrowed at the thought, Wakko _always_ tried to do all the hard or unsavory stuff himself. It didn't help that when Dot demanded to know why he was behaving in such a fashion, Wakko only shrugged and said, " _It's what Yakko would have done, so I'm doing it._ " 

Yakko. 

The brother that Dot couldn't remember. Everything she knew of their long-dead eldest brother she'd learned from Wakko. Even then, it wasn't much that was objective, that wasn't seen from the lense of a younger brother who had once looked up to their oldest sibling. 

It seemed unfair that a dead family member still had his ideals weighing Wakko down. 

It was also unfair that Dot couldn't remember anything of him on her own. She didn't know enough about Yakko to argue with Wakko's claims, and anytime she began to say 'Yakko wouldn't say that!', her older brother always got a pained look in his eyes. 

She didn't argue with Wakko about Yakko anymore. She preferred to ask about happier times, where Wakko would get a softer look on his face, nostalgic; for a few minutes, as he told her stories, he wouldn't look so exhausted, and that was the best part. He looked like the kid he was again. 

Dot forced herself up into a sitting position, not liking how it felt like the floor was attempting to jump up and grab her in a headlock. 

She'd just take it slow and easy. 

She hoped Wakko was having a better go of it than she was, if not, she wasn't sure what they'd do.

* * *

It was official, Wakko decided, he _hated_ the cold. Or, at least, the early morning chill that permeated the air. 

His sweater and cap did little to nothing to keep heat in, and he didn't have pants or boots to keep his lower extremities warm. The older sibling let out a huff, watching as the steam floated up and dissipated within a few seconds. 

Today was not panning out well. 

He knew Dot was feeling worse when she hadn't even tried to see him off as she usually did. The younger sibling would often trail after him to the door, watching him with a guilty and pained expression as Wakko went off to freeze his tail off to get them something to eat. No matter how often Wakko explained that _It wasn't a big deal, they had to get food somehow and he didn't mind, really!_ he knew it still tore Dot up inside that she couldn't do more. 

Right now, Wakko wished he could turn off his ability to feel the cold; if it wasn't for the layer of fur covering his skin, he knew his feet would likely be frost-bitten by now. 

Hell, he'd take a _minor_ case of frostbite if it guaranteed he caught something and was able to bring it home. With how poor their luck had been as of late, he wasn't expecting to catch much, if anything at all. He'd give it a few more hours, he really, **really** needed to catch something, at this point he'd take anything, so their food reserves wouldn't run out. Between his voracious appetite and Dot needing food to keep up what little strength she still had, he preferred trying his damnedest to keep extra food within their home. Whether he succeeded or not, well, that was another story. One he'd rather not talk about. 

But he couldn't give up hope. Not when so much was riding on him and him _alone_. 

As Wakko hunched forward, shivering with an especially strong gust of frigid air, he let a thought that often plagued him slip to the forefront of his mind: 

Would Yakko be disappointed in him given their current situation?

* * *

It took a while, but Dot managed to power through the vertigo enough to tidy up the Warner sibling's makeshift home. There was no way she'd be able to make it to the market and back before Wakko returned, so she would attempt it again tomorrow. The less Wakko knew of her excursions, the better. It kept the peace, and it didn't add extra stress to the older Warner sibling. He already had enough of it, why would she go out of her way to add more? 

For now, Dot would try her hand at cleaning up what few possessions they had. Some of those very possessions were littered about where Wakko would draw up one of their blankets around his head and shoulders like a hooded cape as he moved around their home, trying to keep warm. It often ended up discarded on the floor when he got distracted or he ended up nearly tripping over it and let it drop to the floor without preamble. As much as it annoyed him, he couldn't stay mad at the inanimate object when it made his sister laugh. 

To add to the mess, various flyers Wakko and Dot had collected to use for their fire would end up scattered across the floor as frigid bursts of cold air snaked its way around and through their wooden, decrepit home. Dot had to place her hand against the wall as she straightened up, papers in one hand; her head swam dangerously with the simple motion. She could hear her quickened pulse in her temples and she ended up leaning against the wall, just in case. The last thing she needed was to conk her head against the wall and knock herself out. 

Dot let out a sigh. She was pathetic, wasn't she? 

Wakko was out there in the cold, probably freezing his damn tail off, and she was feeling woozy after doing a few chores around the house. What kind of Warner was she? She'd always thought of herself as a fighter, tough for her age especially, but now? When it took _hours_ to crawl out of bed? It didn't feel right, didn't feel deserved, to say she was strong. 

Wakko had always told her Warners were tough, especially their eldest brother. Wakko always put a lot of stock in Yakko, even though he was no more. Dot supposed she was doing a poor job of continuing the family stereotype at this point. 

As Dot set the papers down, and moved to stoke the fire, _carefully, or they wouldn't have a home any longer_ Wakko's warning echoed in her mind unbidden, she had to wonder: 

Would Yakko be disappointed in her given how little she helped with their current situation?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posts this. Skitters to bed. Goodnight 😴💖
> 
> 💖😄Thank you for reading! Your kudos and comments make my day! 😄💖

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes about this AU:  
> -The timeline is slightly shifted, Salazar attacked later when the kiddos were slightly older. This makes it more viable for Wakko to have bailed with Dot and survive without Yakko there to lead them and protect them.  
> -So in this the Warner kiddos were 8, 5, & 3 at the time of Salazar's coup.  
> -Salazar saw in opportunity in keeping a Warner kiddo alive and Yakko was the unlucky one. Who would want to stage a coup when a literal Warner, and the would-be crown prince is still the crown prince and calling the current dictator 'father'?  
> -Yakko has all but blocked a good portion of the terrible night his sibs and parents were killed from his mind. It's just too much for a kid to handle and Salazar isn't the understanding or nurturing type, so he's buried feelings regarding his actual family deep, deep down inside
> 
> Hope you enjoy, it only gets worse from here! 😄 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Your kudos and comments make my day! 😄💖


End file.
